The Arrest

When I was 17 years old, I was arrested for shoplifting. Now usually this could be chalked up to a case of juvenile delinquency, if only I weren't a freshman in college at the time. It is harder to justify when you are a college student at home over Christmas break, because you are expected to know better, and rightfully so. I had dabbled in petty theft when I was younger, but never anything too serious.

Well, the day before Christmas break, a girl in my dorm who I never had liked (she was a part-time prostitute and a full time slut) gave me a Christmas present. And a fairly nice one at that. Shit, I thought. Now I was obligated to get her something. One afternoon around the end of break, I decided to go to the mall to do some post-holiday shopping. While perusing the racks in Macy's, my eyes were drawn to a wall of fantastically ghetto Tommy Hilfiger apparel that I thought would be perfect for this less than savory character (we'll call her "Jenny") who had bestowed the gift of giving upon me. However, the thought of actually spending my own Christmas money on this girl was difficult to stomach. I found a hooded sweatshirt that I thought would serve the dual purpose of carrying around her portable weed stash and covering her massive breasts (the perfect gift, you could say) and brought it into the changing room. Along the way I also grabbed a 3 pack of white Tommy athletic socks, with the logo on the ankle. In the changing room, a small moral dilemma ensued. Should I just shove this shit into my purse and dip out, or just shell out the $40 odd dollars on this purchase. Needless to say, I chose the former option. With a racing heart, I walked out of the changing room, down the escalator, through the maze of perfume and makeup counters, and out into the open mall. Home free! Or so I thought. I was about 50 feet from the Macy's entrance looking at jade necklaces at a stall, when two sweaty heaving fatasses came charging at me, grabbing me on either side by the arms.

"I think you have something that doesn't belong to you, Mam".
"Uhhh, I stammered, red as a beet, as I made eyes with the vendor of the jade necklaces".

They made me open my bag, pulling out both the sweatshirt and the athletic socks. There are two issues that really get to me to this day about the situation:
1. The fuckers waited until I was halfway through the mall before apprehending me
2. I stole a Tommy Hilfiger hoodie and accompanying socks. Could there be ANYTHING shittier to steal from a department store? I was embarrassed. I pictured myself standing in a courtroom with a judge listing off the merchandise, to a room full of fellow criminals who would scoff their heads in disgust at my dismal takings.

The two dragged me back into the store, and brought me through a long hall to some sort of 'interrogation room'. I use the term loosely because the windowless room consisted of a card table and 3 chairs. They sat me down and told me to wait, that someone would be with me. When alone, my first order of business was to do something with my fake id, which was sitting in the place of my license in my wallet. Still handcuff free at this point, I quickly pulled the id, and afraid of getting strip searched, stuck it in my underwear. Seconds later, the two thugs who had caught me came back into the room, followed by a fat female who was head of security. She certainly had enough brawn for the entire staff.

The three hooligans proceed to verbally berate me as I broke down into tears. It was about 5:00 pm at this point, and I had to babysit at 7. I knew I probably was not going to get this process sped up. They also refused to let me phone home. So anyway, the manager started emptying the contents of my bag onto the table.

"Birth Control??" she hissed. "Are you having sexxxxx?" I swear that venom came out of her mouth.
"Uh no" I replied. And I know for a fact that you're not either you fat bitch, is what I wanted to say, but didn't.

Minutes later, the arresting officer arrived. I don't need to elaborate on the details. He cuffed me and marched me through the shop and out to the cop car. One notable point- as we were cruising through the parking lot, me and Officer Dickhead, an elderly woman flagged down the cop because she had locked her keys in her car. This is seriously what the cop said to the poor woman-
"Back up mam, I have a prisoner in this vehicle". She jumped a mile and scurried off.

Four hours and two psychological exams later, my dad arrived to pick me up. The disappointment in his face said it all. My mom ended up having to go and babysit for me that night, telling the child's parents that I had a flat tire. All in all, I only ended up having to write an essay, and was banned from all Macy's stores for 1 year. It was literally the most humiliating day of my life, and I will absolutely never steal anything again. I learned my lesson. The point was drilled home even farther when I had to take a Greyhound bus from my college to home for my court date at the end of January. But that is a story all to itself.